Then I carefully close the door without looking back.
23
Madelyn
“Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might . . .”
I turn my head on my pillow toward the familiar voice, and although darkness engulfs the seedy motel room, an inner lightness fills the empty space within my soul.
“Have this wish I wish tonight.”
As kids, Mama read rhymes to my sister and me as a bedtime ritual. Filling our heads with beautiful words and painting verbal images of a magical world around us. Planting sweet thoughts inside our sleepy heads so our dreams would be as enchanting as the words she shared.
Not once did Mama sound like Stevie Nicks. Or Kylie, with her similar-sounding smoke- and gravel-filled tone.
I loved Mama’s soft, melodic voice, but it’s my sister whom I could spend hours listening to. Like the time we spread blankets across the beach at Lake Eufaula and she’d gone on and on about the stars. “Star light, star bright” . . . that’d been Mama and Kylie’s favorite . . .
“Shhh. Madelyn. It’s me.”
I struggle with the covers to sit up. Or is it incredulous disbelief holding me down, the weight of my heart keeping me pinned to the mattress?
“Kylie?”
I try to suck in a calming breath, but it’s like I’ve forgotten how to. Like someone’s torn off the feather pillow that’s been slowly suffocating me, leaving me breathless.
“You okay?”
Am I okay? Four months tempering my worries. Four months of trying to begin my new life. Running, hiding, wondering what the heck she’s done to put us at risk. No, I’m far from okay.
But she’s here.
She’s alive.
She’s found me.
“Oh my God, Kylie. I’ve been looking for you,” I manage.
“Yeah, I know.” She rolls and folds her legs beneath her, poised on the bed yet cast in shadows.
Not quite real. Surreal.
Reaching over, I fumble for the light switch.
“Keep it off,” she orders, her voice strained. “Get up. We’ve got to go.”
I climb onto my knees, then, overcome by emotion, draw her into a hug.
She stiffens within my arms, resisting me along with the comfort only a sister can offer. Until her body softens within my embrace. Then I’m tugged into her so damn tightly, I think my ribs might crack.
She’s strong and just as fit as the last time I saw her. Like running a 3K race is part of her morning workout. But who knows, right? It’s not like I saw much of her in the days leading up to her disappearance.
“What the heck is going on, Kylie? Do you want to explain to me why the mob is after you?” And quite possibly . . . Declan?
Kylie pushes me away and climbs off the bed. I scamper after her, not for a second letting her vanish again. Emotionally or otherwise. But she moves into the faint light as I’m about to insist she answer me.
It’s like a stranger’s standing before me.
“Your hair’s red?” I gasp. Not a delicate auburn shade but bright, clown-nose red. She’s cut it short, with wisps curling across her cheekbones and long bangs covering her forehead. The color makes her face seem pale. Accentuating the dark circles around her eyes. Dark like her lipstick, an in-your-face black shade. Kylie doesn’t even like wearing lipstick.
My gaze drops to her black laced combat boots, which she’s paired with stockings that look like they’ve been on the losing side of a Freddy Krueger encounter. Aside from the runs, there’s plenty of peekaboo thigh on display—her skirt is that short. To top it all off, her muscle T-shirt has a Rolling Stones applique on it, the cover to their album Forty Licks. It’s hard to miss that tongue tightly pulled across her ample chest. Our love of music—her classic rock/punk, me country—is the only familiar thing left of my sister. Holy hell. Quite the goth-rocker-gone-wild ensemble for someone who hates to stand out.
I frown. “What’s up with the outfit?”
“Hurry and get dressed.”
She’s always been a bossy older sister. But I deserve answers. “Where have you been? The trailer’s been torched, everything is gone. No one, not even Sylvia, had any idea where you disappeared to.”
“You shouldn’t have gone back,” she softly replies with a shake of her head.
“No, I discovered that the hard way.” I stare at her. My sister. Who’s clueless to the hell that’s broken out around me.
The man I’ve drugged.
Yeah, I’m still shaken and as angry as I’ve ever been. Frightened, too. Hurt, even more so. But I’m feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction knowing how furious he’ll be when the roofie wears off.
A brave act. But everyone has a boiling point. I’m tired, tired of the not knowing, of being dropped off and forgotten, dragged around and misled, kept in the dark about so many things. My steadfast belief in the people around me and in the idea that at the core of each of us lies a common decency, a humanity, and an empathy toward others is slowly shredding away. I search the face of the one person whose soul I thought I could see and wonder if I really know her at all.
“You didn’t meet me at the Pitt that night,” I murmur, desperately trying to temper the accusation within my tone.
“I couldn’t,” she chokes out.
“Sure, you told me to move on with my life, to head to San Diego in case that you didn’t show. But the funny thing is, I believed wholeheartedly that you would return.”
“God, I’m so sorry, Madelyn. You don’t understand . . .”
“Explain it to me. It’s been four months, Kylie. You disconnected your phone. You never once contacted me at college. It’s like you’ve forgotten all about me.” Her face grows paler, and I immediately regret my outburst. “We’ll get through this together. Whatever you’ve done to piss off the mob—because that’s what this is about, right?—I’ll help you figure it out.”
“DiCapitano is the least of my problems. Or was, until you came back.”
My eyes widen. Least of her problems?
“I love you, Madelyn. Do you honestly believe I’d forget about you? Hell, I’ve been tracking you for months. San Diego. Cabo. Corpus Christi. I warned you about how easy it is to breach bank security systems.”
“What?”
“You transferred to San Diego State and accepted your scholarship money. You hung around with a pretty, dark-haired girl. A spunky gal—the perfect friend to snap you out of Mother Teresa mode. You seemed content, Maddie. In the process of moving on with your life like we planned, Okla-fuck-me-over-homa be damned.”
I’m frozen in place, speechless, the T-shirt and shorts I just removed from my duffel bag clutched tightly within my fist. There’s just far too much wrong in what she’s revealed.
“Listen. I’m sorry for dragging you into my crazy.”
“You checked up on me?”
She nods. “You’re the only reason I’m back in Oklahoma. I accessed your banking statements online and easily tracked your movements. But Christ, you didn’t leave me much choice when I realized you were headed home. I had to make sure you were okay. Lord, how I wish you didn’t come back to Shelby.”